


Rise From the Ashes

by inkandwords



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Slice of Life, atsu fics, atsu gets super indulgent with the shower wall sex haha, faiyuuhi's fireman!au, happy belated bday fai! :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7281148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandwords/pseuds/inkandwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto Koutarou is used to playing with fire, but an unexpected encounter with an unforgettable pair of steel green eyes ignites a fire inside him that takes on a life of its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faiyuuhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faiyuuhi/gifts).



> fai drew [**this amazing art of my owl babe**](http://faiyuuhi.tumblr.com/post/145472237182/welcome-back-kisses-hqfiremen-and-their-floofs) for her fireman!au and my fingers slipped. whoops. haha happy ~~(super belated)~~ birthday, fai! thank you for being one of the sweetest people I’ve met in this fandom and for gracing us with your amazing au! 
> 
> just a heads up: there's a scene that has mention of animal death but nothing too graphic and don't worry, definitely not Bo's pup. 
> 
> special thanks to [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pair of eyes ♥

“Have you actually talked to him or do you just stare while he drinks his coffee?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds creepy. Like I’m stalkin’ him or something. Besides, he’s always got his nose buried in a book, so I don’t think he’s noticed. Have I mentioned he’s got these amazing eyes? Green, but also gray, but also something else, and I’m just--” Bokuto hops out of the firetruck with an audible grunt, mouth curving into a moony grin. Before he has the chance to shut the door, something jumps him from behind, followed by a familiar bark. Immediately, he brightens, drops down on his knees as Aki, his dalmatian rescue, worms his way into Bokuto’s lap and greets him with a face full of warm, slobbering kisses. “Hey, bud! Aw, did you miss me? Yeah, I know, I missed you, too! You give Iwaizumi a hard time while I was out? Did you? Did you? That’s my good boy.” He gives Aki a few affectionate rubs behind his ears, his enthusiasm matching the canine’s overexcited welcome.

“Well?” Kuroo smirks, eyebrow raised while he waits for a response. His own pup comes bounding over, tail wagging in greeting. He bends to brush his fur from head to tail and fondly pats his side before the dog is satisfied and disappears back into the common room. 

Bokuto deflates when Kuroo reiterates the question, his sullen retort grumbled under his breath. “Not exactly.” Aki nudges his hand with a whine and Bokuto indulges the call for attention, albeit less enthused than before. 

“You’re hopeless,” Kuroo says with a fond ruffle of Bokuto’s hair, causing him to jerk away, fingers scrambling to fix the wayward strands. “It’s been a solid week since you tripped over your own feet and tried to drown him with the fire hose. Grow a pair already and just talk to the guy before he writes you off as some weirdo following him around. He might arrest you or something.”

“Says the one who nearly ran into the drop pole tryin’ to scope out the department tech.”

“I--” With cheeks tinged a noticeable pink, Kuroo scratches his cheek in embarrassment. “I was reading my clipboard! It wasn’t ‘cause of, um-- anyway, why are we talking about me? You’re the one that has the stalking problem.”

“Pot or kettle?”

“I don’t stalk.”

“Right. Our radio system totally just short circuits itself on a regular basis. Nothin’ to do with the hot comm tech.”

“Kenma being hot is besides the point--”

“Ohohoho?! On a first name basis now, are we? And you just admitted you thought he was hot!” Bokuto says with a triumphant grin. 

“I-- uh-- whatever, shut up,” Kuroo mutters before he effectively changes the subject. “Don’t you have coffee to get? Your shift’s over. Better hurry or you’ll miss pretty boy snag his morning brew.”

With a final pat to Aki’s head, Bokuto rises with a small salute. “Wish me luck with the miracle-grow. I’ll be back for Aki in a bit.”

Kuroo returns the gesture and calls out, “break a leg and not your balls!”

* * *

 

 

The line at the nearby coffee shop stretches out the door by the time Bokuto gets there. It’s slow moving, but it gives Bokuto some time to scope out the place. Maybe spot a familiar head of dark curls and maybe take Kuroo’s advice and actually speak this time around. When he nears the front of the line, he realizes what hold up has been. 

A pretty girl with short blonde hair frantically attempts to keep up with all the orders flooding in, but the more she tries, the harder it is for her to get the line moving. Especially when the man currently at the counter is telling her off for spelling his name wrong.

“Are you deaf? I said Tadashi, not Takashi. It doesn’t even sound the same, for Christ’s sake!”

“Hey, bro. She’s just tryin’ to do her job. Cut her some slack, yeah? The place is packed and everyone’s tryin’ to get somewhere.”

“And who the hell asked you?!” the man snaps back, whirling around only to find that he’s more than a few centimeters short and about half Bokuto’s size to be of any real threat. The realization must have hit him like a brick because in the next second, he’s stammering an explanation Bokuto has already tuned out.

“No need to get worked up, right? Just pay up and get your java and everyone can pretend you didn’t just make an ass out of yourself for embarrassing the poor girl,” Bokuto says, expression steeled even with the huge smile he wears. He glances at the barista’s name tag. “Yachi, right?”

The girl nods quickly, her lips trembling as she picks up another cup and rewrites the man’s name. He pays for the drink, muttering something under his breath as he shuffles to the side to wait for it. 

“Probably should apologize,” Bokuto says nonchalantly before giving his own order with an easy grin. 

“S-Sorry,” the man manages, looking thoroughly vexed at having been called out in front of the whole shop.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bokuto hands over a few bills only to jump in surprise when someone behind him speaks up.

“I’ve got his today.”

He blinks owlishly at his reflection in the mirrored wall, recognizing the voice before his gaze settles on dark curls, Akaashi’s expression deadpanning when Bokuto continues to gawk without supplying a response. 

“A-Akaashi-san! You don’t have to do that! I was going to ask Shimizu-san if I can comp him today, anyway,” Yachi splutters, cheeks splotching crimson.

“Yeah, really! I can totally get my own coffee!” Bokuto manages, still shell-shocked that not only is Akaashi paying for his coffee, but he’s also standing close enough for Bokuto to see the odd shade of green in his eyes. Discreetly, he crosses his fingers and prays that his feet won’t betray him this time around.

“I want to,” Akaashi responds, extracting a few extra bills from his wallet and nodding toward the usual barista standing behind the younger girl. “And I’ll have my regular today, Shimizu-san. Thank you.”

“Go ahead and take your break, Hitoka-chan. I can handle the customers until you get back.” Shimizu takes the money with a silent nod and gives Akaashi back his change as the blonde girl quickly bows and scuttles off toward the kitchen. “I'm sorry about that. It’s her second day and she’s just beginning to get used to the morning rush.”

“No trouble at all,” Akaashi says with a polite dip of his head. Then he gestures toward the pick-up counter and offers Bokuto a quiet smile. “After you?”

Bokuto wills his feet to move despite the aneurism he’s likely having at seeing Akaashi’s smile for the first time and thankfully, he manages to keep himself upright without incident.

“You really didn’t have to pay for me,” he starts, acutely aware that Akaashi’s eyes are on him the entire time.

“You did a nice thing for her, so I thought I’d repay in kind. Most people would have stayed quiet.”

Bokuto clamps a hand at his nape, his grin sheepish. “It was nothing! The guy was bein’ a bully and she was tryin’ really hard. I used to get picked on when I was a kid, so seein’ people get that way with someone who can’t defend themselves really gets me worked up somethin’ fierce, y’know?”

With an amused snort, Akaashi’s eyebrows peak in genuine surprise. “I find it hard to believe anyone would pick on you--”

“Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou,” he supplies awkwardly.

“I know,” Akaashi says, nodding as he grabs their coffee orders and squeezes between the other patrons toward the exit. “Konoha-san has mentioned you a few times.”

Bokuto clumsily takes his drink once they’ve cleared the crowd and clamps a hand over his face. “Oh god...”

“He keeps trying to slip me your number, but I thought it might be better if I got it the old-fashioned way.”

It takes Bokuto a few seconds to catch on, but when he does, his heart stutters right before his face heats up like an apocalyptic inferno. “R-Right!” he says, his excitement painfully obvious even with his attempts at dialing it down. “Should I just--”

Akaashi produces a pen from his back pocket and hands over his coffee cup. “You can write it on there. If you want.”

Bokuto fumbles before he finally manages to scribble his number underneath the neatly written characters of Akaashi’s name. When he hands the pen back, Akaashi does the same on Bokuto’s cup and returns it with the hint of a smile.

“Great! So, um, I’ll call you!” Bokuto wracks his brain for an excuse to keep Akaashi talking when a thought occurs to him. “Wait-- I know you probably have work or something, but if you’re not busy later and if I haven’t managed to make an ass out of myself yet, would you maybe, I dunno, wanna hang out? After? With... me?”

“I’m not busy now.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay. Now’s good,” Bokuto says, relieved that he hadn’t spectacularly messed up the invitation.

“I thought you might like to drink your coffee with me this time instead of just watching me drink mine by myself.”

Bokuto flinches at the implication and rubs the back of his head. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Subtlety isn’t exactly your strong suit, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto laughs as they start walking. “Well, shit...”

“I didn’t mind,” Akaashi says, nudging Bokuto’s arm as he takes a sip of his coffee, “I thought it was cute.”

As they continue on their way, it takes a few minutes before Akaashi’s words register, causes Bokuto to stumble and nearly launch his cup at a passerby.

“Did you just call me cute?!”

* * *

 

 

It had taken Bokuto all of a week to introduce Akaashi to Aki.

The first time is always the hardest. While Aki is friendly with most people, he’s notoriously protective over Bokuto and introducing him to the wrong person generally doesn’t end well. A fact Bokuto has experienced on more than one occasion. But from the very first meeting, Aki’s eyes had lit up, tail rapidly wagging when he’d sniffed Akaashi’s tentatively outstretched hand.

And the rest is history.

“How many does that make this? The fifth or sixth time you’ve seen him in the last three weeks?” Iwaizumi asks, shifting the damp towel off his head and onto his shoulders. “Growing up right before our eyes. Kuroo would be so proud.”

Bokuto snorts, only half-paying attention as he taps on his phone screen in reply to Akaashi’s text. “It’s actually seven, unless you count the days I crashed at his place. Then it might be closer to twelve.”

“Sleeping over already? Sounds serious.” Iwaizumi claps a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and grins. “Good on you. Do the guys at the police station know about you two yet?”

“With the way Konoha’s been runnin’ his mouth, I’d bet a week’s worth of barbeque that everyone knows,” Bokuto says with hearty laugh. “He’s outside now, actually. Says he brought a surprise.”

“It’s not a dirty surprise, right? Because I’m not really--”

“Akaashi! Hey!” A smile stretches wide across Bokuto’s face as Akaashi comes through the firehouse entrance. Bokuto nearly barrels into him when someone else follows, a head of blond and dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail popping up behind him. “Ohoho! Look at what the cat dragged in...”

Kenma tucks a few loose strands behind his ear and peers around just as Daichi comes out of the kitchen with Kuroo in tow. Once Kuroo spots Kenma, he freezes.

Right as the swinging door slams right into his face.

“Way to make an entrance, bro!” Bokuto’s laughter fills the room, booming louder when Kuroo eases the door open, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “You remember Kozume, right?”

Kuroo lifts his free hand in a disoriented salute. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Kenma asks, sparing a glance at the fire chief with an audible sniff.

Bokuto slings an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder and nudges Kenma before he drops his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Why don’t you go over there and find out?”

Kenma deadpans, eyes flickering to Akaashi as if to say ‘ _don’t leave me here with these lunatics_ ’.

“You’re the one who wanted to come,” Akaashi says with a shrug on his way out of the building.

Bokuto throws a casual wave over his shoulder just as he hears Kenma sigh and mumble an incredulous, “I can’t believe they made him fire chief. ”

* * *

 

 

A belly full of food later, Bokuto stands next to Akaashi in front of the Tokyo Big Sight, rocking back on his heels in brimming anticipation. He takes in the way Akaashi’s lips part in surprise, gaping at the entrance of the convention center with a sort of quiet excitement. Pays attention to the dark fringe of his eyelashes as Akaashi blinks, slow and with understanding dawning as he reads over the sign of the exhibit showing. 

“How did you--”

“You wanted to go, right?! I remember you mentioning it the other day and I wanted to take you. Figured, it’d be a cool official date 'cause we’ve never actually been on one since we’ve started hanging out and--”

“Hold on, who said we were dating?” Akaashi asks with a carefully crafted poker face.

Bokuto’s eyes widen as he splutters, “oh! I thought-- well, we’ve been to each other’s houses and you let me hold your hand and kiss you and stuff and I’m-- I didn’t mean to-- um, assume-- it just seemed--”

Akaashi snorts and takes Bokuto’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I was kidding.”

“--that I--” Bokuto blinks at the interruption before he exaggerates a sigh of relief, booming laughter following with a squeeze of Akaashi’s hand. “You-- shit, you scared me for a second ‘cause I was startin’ to think I was imaginin’ the whole thing!”

“Your reaction was priceless,” Akaashi says, lips tugging a smile. “Cute, even.”

Bokuto bristles like an owl affronted. “What’d I tell ya about that?! I’m not cute! I’m manly as hell!”

Akaashi returns the squeeze and pats Bokuto’s arm as they head inside. “Yes, of course, Bokuto-san. Manly as hell. Absolutely not cute.”

Then Bokuto rethinks the statement, eyes darting surreptitiously to the side. “...okay, _maybe_ sometimes I’m cute.”

“I rest my case.”

 

*****

 

Hours later, as the convention begins closing down for the day, Bokuto and Akaashi give in to the prolonged lack of food and stop by a food cart on their way to the train station. It’s one of those small, passable things with barely a place to sit, but with the smell of barbeque wafting by, Bokuto had immediately dragged Akaashi over to see if it tasted as good as it smelled. 

“Thank you for taking me today,” Akaashi says between bites. “I didn’t expect you to use your first weekend off for something like this.”

It takes Bokuto a full minute to respond, his attention momentarily distracted by the way Akaashi mouths the skewer clean before crumpling his napkin and neatly tossing both into the nearby waste bin. Akaashi seems to have noticed the reaction because he reaches over to poke the tip of Bokuto’s nose, laughter quiet and brimming with affection. 

“I-- oh! Right, weekend off,” Bokuto manages, glancing away with a sheepish grin. “I asked Tetsu for it specifically ‘cause I knew you’d like it. You’re always carryin’ a book around with you, so I figured if I wanted to get to know you better, this would be a great way to do it! Did I do good?”

He watches for Akaashi’s reaction as he sucks in a breath, for the approval he’s been so keen to earn.

When Akaashi leans in, slender fingers sliding along Bokuto's jaw before he presses their lips together, Bokuto exhales and lays his bundled nerves to rest. 

Akaashi smiles. Unexpected and rare, but definitely genuine. Pleased. “Yeah, you did good.”

* * *

 

 

“Bo, are you going to be okay?”

“Where are you goin’, Kou?”

“Hey, maybe someone needs to--”

Before the others can finish voicing their concerns, Bokuto is already out the door. He doesn’t know where he’s heading, doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. But after a few weeks without incident, of easy calls and small fires, spontaneous dates with Akaashi and comfortable laughter, he figures this is the universe’s way of telling him it’s been long enough.

It’s nearly midnight when he stumbles up to Akaashi’s door. He should have called, _would_ have called, actually, if he weren’t so out of it that he’d forgotten his phone at work. He doesn’t remember how he got there, doesn’t remember leaving the firehouse without his belongings. All he remembers are the eyes of the girl whose fingers slipped through his before plummeting three stories when the floor gave out from under her. 

Soot-stained fingers curl into his palms, angry crescents digging into the calloused skin when he knocks. The sound makes him flinch, skittish and mildly disconcerted. He can’t recall how much time has passed since he started walking, but it dawns on him how late it is and Akaashi is likely sleeping or at work and coming to see him while Bokuto is not exactly himself is probably on this side of a lousy idea. 

He leans in, forehead pressed against the dark blue wood, and exhales. Slow and steady, trying to shut out the images burned into the back of his retinas like something right out of the horror movies he’s always trying to get Kuroo to watch. Then he turns to leave, his throat attempting to shove down the lump lodged there when the door creaks open and Akaashi stares at him, the back of his hand rubbing sleep from his bleary eyes.

“Bokuto-san? What are you doing here?”

Bokuto stumbles a step toward him, his fight to stave off the salt stinging his eyes a losing battle. “I-I don’t know-- I just-- I needed--”

Akaashi doesn’t wait for him to finish, wastes no time in ushering him inside before guiding him toward the sofa. For a long while, he says nothing, sits on the floor at Bokuto’s feet and holds his hands while Bokuto latches on, desperate and crushing as his shoulders shudder, chest heaving in release and tears dotting stains on his soot-covered slacks. 

When his chest feels lighter and his head begins to buzz from the prolonged exhaustion, Bokuto is surprised when Akaashi rests his cheek against his palm, nudges the edge of Bokuto’s thumb with the tip of his nose and exhales warmth against his skin. A silent comfort.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. You can stay here tonight.”

“A-Are ya sure? I didn’t mean for you to, I mean, I know you probably have work tomorrow and I’m--”

“Sick day,” Akaashi says, getting up and tugging Bokuto after him. “They don’t need to know the details.”

Grateful, Bokuto follows behind with a mournful nod, When Akaashi beelines for the shower, Bokuto’s disappointment must have been noticeable because Akaashi turns to him as though reading his mind and says, “you’ll fall asleep in the tub and I don’t know if I can manage to get you in the bedroom by myself.”

“Right,” Bokuto mumbles, cheeks burning at the errant thought. He would have liked to soak in the tub for a bit, though mulling over things in his state of mind is probably not a good idea. As it is, Akaashi already has the shower turned on at full blast and it takes minutes before the bathroom is engulfed in weighted steam. 

The moisture seeps into his skin, makes the dirt and grime liquefy as sweat and condensation bead along his arms, up his neck, and across his chest beneath the filthy cotton t-shirt now clinging to him. He shrinks into himself, arms wrapping around his torso, and he blinks back the sting behind his eyelids again. Akaashi’s shirt drops in a heap on the floor, his drawstring pants following, and Bokuto stares for a moment, confused. Then Akaashi takes a step forward, slender fingers tracing along the hem of Bokuto’s shirt before he tugs upward, gentle but firm.

“What are you--”

“Helping,” Akaashi says. Simple. Obvious. Without any hesitation despite the tremendous step they’re taking.

It occurs to Bokuto that even in his dejection, his sudden nerves at seeing Akaashi completely naked still manages to affect him enough that his knees wobble. Tremble just enough to cause him to falter when he realizes Akaashi would see all of him as well.

“Are you-- we haven’t really, um-- you don’t have to, honestly--”

But Akaashi cuts him off, hands cradling the sides of his face as the impulsive kiss renders Bokuto momentarily speechless. “Koutarou, stop talking and let me help you.”

The change in address takes Bokuto by surprise, cements the gravity of its meaning -- for Akaashi to leave his comfort zone, to break out of whatever formality stands between them, to make himself just as vulnerable as Bokuto feels. What remains of their clothing is strewn on the damp tiles, haphazard piles forgotten as Akaashi guides him back, the steam heavy and enveloping them both.

“Your shower’s pretty big,” Bokuto remarks, half paying attention to his surroundings, while his brain struggles to keep himself level. Instantly, he silently kicks himself for the lame comment. He stills when Akaashi lathers shampoo into his hair, uses the suds to rid Bokuto of the filth covering his skin. The scent is pleasant, calming -- sandalwood, maybe. Earthy and full, but subtle enough that he commits it to memory for later so he doesn’t forget how Akaashi smells as the water clings to him in droplets, fingers massaging slow and purposeful through the shock of gray and black. Without meaning to, he groans, eyes slipping shut in the cascade of water washing away more than just dirt, more than just soot and ash from the long day’s work. His chest clenches, body tensing while he fights the imagery again. “Keiji...I’m-- I can’t--”

Akaashi tilts Bokuto’s head toward him, anchors their foreheads together, reassurances murmured between salt-tinged kisses. “Focus on my voice,” he says, thumbs tracing Bokuto’s temples and fingers tightening their grasp in Bokuto’s hair. Hard enough to break him from his downward spiral, to root him. Grounded. Safe. “Focus on me.”

“’m tryin’,” Bokuto mumbles with a sharp exhale muffled by Akaashi’s mouth, soft and pliant and seemingly determined to provide a means to distract Bokuto in every way necessary.

“Focus on me,” Akaashi repeats, angling his face as he traces Bokuto’s bottom lip with his tongue, teeth scoring along its edge before he tugs hard enough to earn another groan. His left hand loosens its hold and slips between them, skates past the sculpted ridges of Bokuto’s abdomen, down the trail of fine, damp hair leading to his semi-erect cock. The kiss continues, insistent and exploratory, while Akaashi wraps steady fingers around Bokuto and slowly strokes him to life.

The distraction captures Bokuto’s focus, allows him to push aside the events of the day if only to keep himself locked in the moment. It’s nice, not being in control, not worrying about decisions and actions and the consequences of both. To blank his mind and let Akaashi take the reins. To let go. His breathing hitches as Akaashi eases into an even rhythm, the sound repeating when Bokuto’s hand is guided toward the curve of Akaashi’s ass. 

He’s thought of this moment. Many times, in fact. But thinking and doing are different things and Bokuto still has difficulty wrapping his mind around Akaashi keeping a vested interest in someone like him. Someone who fumbles over his words when Akaashi is around, who balances spoons on the tip of his nose like an obnoxious child, whose moods drop and fall at the blink of an eye. Someone undeserving of a person as selfless and beautiful as Akaashi who saves countless lives when Bokuto couldn’t even manage to save--

“You’re slipping,” Akaashi says, interrupting Bokuto’s thoughts. He presses their lips together, a subtle ghost of a kiss as he takes a step back and then another until he makes contact with the tiled wall. “Trust me. I’ve got you. It’s you and me. Nothing else.”

Bokuto manages a nod and kisses Akaashi in earnest, heat simmering in his belly when Akaashi exhales a soft moan, ruts against him with hands threading into the damp tangles of his hair. Akaashi’s cock brushes against his, hot and equally hard, the differing sensation causing Bokuto to bite the jut of Akaashi’s lip in response.

“Do I need to... prep--” he mumbles between kisses, but Akaashi shakes his head, takes Bokuto’s hand and guides his fingers between his ass, lifting it just enough to grant Bokuto access. 

“I was busy before you came over,” he says without shame, hissing sharply when Bokuto takes the initiative and slips a finger inside. He tenses, grip tightening just enough to make Bokuto suck the air between his teeth in surprise. Akaashi’s head lolls back, teeth dragging across his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he gives a nod of encouragement. “More.”

It doesn’t take long before Akaashi’s soft moans linger, draw out until he’s trembling against Bokuto, kisses no longer gentle, soft, patient. Bokuto skims his nose along Akaashi’s jaw, mouths under his chin and against his neck, the words muffled but intention clear. “Tell me what you want, Keiji...”

“You,” comes Akaashi’s breathless response. “Just you.”

Bokuto sucks at the soft skin, nips the pulse point enough to make Akaashi gasp when he lifts him up, muscles clenching as legs anchor at his hips. Maneuvering himself into position, he grunts from the added exertion, uses the wall as leverage and then with a sharp intake of air, pushes against the barrier until he’s inside him. Sees stars explode behind his eyelids when they flutter closed, a low groan escaping at the initial sensation. The warmth leaves tingles of pressure, engulfs him, makes him shudder from the intoxicating friction before he eases himself all the way in, buried to the hilt. 

“Now move,” Akaashi breathes, holds Bokuto’s face between his hands and coaxes him into another kiss. Fervent, wanting. Searing in the same way Bokuto’s body ignites with every thrust, slow and testing, but gaining momentum. Each cant of his hips, each rough propulsion builds, sends jolts of electricity through every nerve until his lungs burn, heart hammering in its cage while Akaashi grinds out hoarse murmurs...  _faster, harder, there oh god yes._

His mouth finds Akaashi’s neck again, anchors down and discovers places that quicken Akaashi’s breaths, make him tighten his legs a fraction more before Bokuto works his way back to the familiarity of Akaashi’s kiss-bruised lips. They groan into each others’ mouths, Akaashi’s fingers curling into Bokuto’s back, blunt nails dragging across the skin before they dig in mid-angled thrust, purposeful and intent to mark.

Then Bokuto jerks, muscles seizing, the coil snapping inside him and unraveling all at once. A string of curses escape in a mumbled mantra beneath broken moans, strained and breathless and wrecking him into a stupor. His hips thrust erratically, slam against the base of Akaashi’s ass before he grits his teeth with a tense, “I’m... oh shit, _fuck I’m_ \--”

He shudders against Akaashi, violent and uncontrollable, the shattering orgasm leaving him boneless, loose-limbed and blindly grasping purchase on the slick tiles, too fucked out to do anything but stand there until Akaashi bites out a keening plea. “Koutarou,” he whimpers, pupils blown and mouth a soft bow, “Koutarou,  _please_...”

Bokuto’s reaction is automatic, fingers sliding between them and wrapping around Akaashi’s semi-soft erection. He makes quick work until Akaashi is panting, mouth a soft bow and eyes veiled by lashes black and full and fanning pink-tinged cheeks. Bokuto’s name exhales in stuttered sighs until Akaashi stills, rigid for a fraction of a second before a moan echoes around them and Akaashi jerks up, splattering his release across his abdomen while Bokuto coaxes him through it.

He sags against the wall, legs trembling with difficulty. Bokuto takes in the sight, entranced and euphoric despite the faint heaviness that lingers from earlier in the night. Without preamble, he tilts his head, captures Akaashi’s mouth with his. Sweet and dizzying and so contented he could cry with it. Reluctantly, he pulls out and gently sets Akaashi down, foreheads pressed together while they come down from the high, the shower nearly forgotten. He forces himself to swallow as his eyes close, the ache he’d felt earlier ebbing away the longer he holds Akaashi in his arms.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I told you I’ve got you. Now come on,” Akaashi says, voice soft and a little spent. The kiss he steals is much the same, but Bokuto senses the hint of a smile before Akaashi pulls away and shuts the shower off. “Time for bed.”

 

*****

 

When Bokuto wakes the next morning, Akaashi is still asleep, nestled into him, warm cheek pressed against his chest. Their fingers remain laced together from the night before and the realization tugs his lips in a contented grin. He brings Akaashi’s hand up, tracing his knuckles with feather-light kisses. “I love you,” he says without thinking, nose buried in Akaashi’s hair. The first time of many. “It sounds crazy ‘cause we haven’t even been ‘us’ for that long. But I needed you to know.”

The wayward curls stick up at odd angles, tickle his cheeks, and after a few minutes, Akaashi stirs, mumbling a sleep-ridden, “Koutarou?”

The way Akaashi says his name leaves him buzzing, punch drunk and warm despite the chill of the early morning. His lips anchor to Akaashi’s forehead, linger for a moment longer than necessary as he breathes him in, familiar and comforting. He pulls away, eyes closing again as he murmurs, “go back to sleep.”

Akaashi makes a small noise and nuzzles closer, but remains silent. It’s when Bokuto is drifting off again that he hears the response -- quiet and no more than a soft breath, but loud enough that, even half-asleep, it makes him smile.

“Love you, too.”

* * *

 

 

A week later, Bokuto jolts awake to the sound of the station alarm blaring loud enough to wake the dead.

Instantly, memory takes over, has him scrambling out of his cot at the firehouse in the near-darkness as he slips into his work boots and manages to get the rest of his gear on despite the lack of visibility. Iwaizumi is already prepped and halfway into the firetruck by the time Bokuto slides down the metal pole, helmet tucked under his arm.

“How bad is it?” he asks, adjusting the earpiece as he syncs up the channel in the communication device. “You’re on two, right?”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi says before he mutters something else Bokuto strains to hear. When prompted again, his jaw steels and grunts as he maneuvers the vehicle through a wide left turn. “There’re kids trapped inside.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get ‘em out. We always do, right?” Even with the reassurances, Bokuto sees the way Iwaizumi tenses, recognizes the way he grips the steering wheel just a little tighter. They reach the location and immediately, Bokuto’s stomach lodges in his throat. Flames lick around the building, thick smoke coming from every crevice. People have gathered near the site and Bokuto wastes no time in jumping down, immediately ushering the nearest of them far enough out of harm’s way. Iwaizumi is already unloading the equipment, hose hooked up to the side of the truck when Bokuto makes his way back. “Holy shit! Yeah, we definitely need the other guys for this. Radio it in while I try to see if I can find an entrance that hasn’t been blocked in?”

Iwaizumi nods just as Bokuto jogs to the rear of the building. He spots a rusted metal door as soon as he turns the corner and presses a hand against the surface, relieved to find that it’s still cool to the touch. _That’s a good sign_ , he thinks, and shoulders the door open. The hallway is dingy, bits of trash littered along the tiled floor and graffiti along the left wall as he feels his way toward the source of the fire. When he reaches the second floor landing, it becomes increasingly warmer, a familiar smell stinging his nostrils. Smoke escapes from a few of the apartment doors, furling out from the top crevices and clouding the dim corridor.

“Anyone here?!” His call is met with silence. He repeats himself each time he passes by a door, pounding on each one in turn. “Hey! It’s the fire department! Can anyone hear me?!”

A crackle in his ear halts him mid-step, Iwaizumi’s voice cutting through it. “The landlord’s out here. Says most everyone’s been accounted for, but there’s a kid still in there that no one’s seen since this morning. He should be on the second floor in 202. You think you can--”

“I’m on it!” Bokuto says, imagining Iwaizumi’s face at the interruption and holding back a snicker before he breaks into a jog. The smoke gradually thickens the farther he gets and when he nears the end of the hall, a faint bark from somewhere beyond one of the doors catches his attention. “I think I found him! I don’t think he’s alone. Can ya get a ladder rigged to the apartment window?”

“Yeah, working on it now! Just be careful, though. I think the building’s not going to hold up for long.” And the static zips through the line before it falls silent.

“Don’t think about the collapsing building, don’t think about the collapsing building,” he mutters when he reaches the apartment.

Maneuvering the door open is more difficult than he anticipates. When the wood finally gives and splinters, Bokuto stumbles inside, head whipping side to side as he assesses the damage. Grayish-black smoke billows up toward the ceiling and even with his mask, he can smell it, remembers the way it stings his nostrils and dries his throat as it feeds on the oxygen around it. The fire has consumed a large part of the room, a lone beam angled from the ceiling that likely crashed through from the floor above now crackling with a menacing danger that kicks Bokuto’s instincts into gear.

“Please help!”

The voice is small, timid with fear, but loud enough that Bokuto tells him to keep calling out while he navigates through the burning wreckage. When he reaches one of the rooms down the narrow hall, he jumps in surprise as the beam he’d passed collapses completely. Doubling his efforts, he doesn’t think to feel the door when he rams against it and causes it to slam into the wall already consumed by the blaze.

“Hey, it’s okay! We’re gonna get ya outta h--”

But the boy frantically interrupts him. “My dog! I can’t get him unstuck! You gotta help me, mister!”

Protocol dictates that Bokuto’s priority is the boy. Get the boy to safety as quickly as possible before his window of opportunity expires. But he thinks of Aki back at the fire station, thinks of the wagging tail and the happy bark and the warm eyes that comfort him when nothing else can. Knows that in a heartbeat he would put his own life on the line for his canine companion much in the same way the boy would do for the poor pup trapped beneath an overturned bookcase already smoking from the flames reducing the nearby curtains to ash and embers.

He rushes over, and immediately, his fingers edge along the bookcase as he grunts to lift it, knees bent. It’s heavier than he anticipates, probably made from undisturbed wood instead of the cheaper, composite substitutes. Even with his strength, he’s barely able to lift it without a pained whine from the animal trapped beneath.

“It’s too heavy, kiddo. I’m gonna keep trying, but I need to get you outta here first, okay?”

The boy furiously shakes his head, eyes panicked. “He’s my family! I can’t leave him!”

“I promise I’ll keep trying if you let me get you out,” Bokuto says, reassessing his surroundings when he hears more crackling as the building structure groans above them. There’s a window at the far end of the room that may still work as an escape route if he can convince the boy to listen. A few minutes is all he has and if he’s going to make good on his word, he needs to prioritize. “Come on, we got a deal?”

The boy takes a few seconds to consider, but in the end, nods and takes Bokuto’s hand.

“Hey,” Bokuto says into the intercom, “I got the kid. I’m bringin’ him to the second floor window. One of the bedrooms near the northwest corner of the building. Ladder up?”

“Getting it into position now,” comes Iwaizumi’s response. “Kuroo and Daichi are here and so’re a few of the guys from the other station. They’re working on getting this thing under control, but the entire first floor is shot to hell and this thing is burning through faster than they can contain it.”

“Copy that, kiddo comin’ your way,” Bokuto says when he reaches the window. He jimmies the frame up and helps the trembling boy out on the first rung of the ladder just as Iwaizumi secures him. “I need another minute. Kid’s dog is trapped under a bookcase.”

“Bo, you don’t have time. The building’s gonna go and--”

But Bokuto doesn’t wait around to hear the rest, knowing full well he’ll likely get an earful from Kuroo once he gets back down to ground level.

“Sorry bro, hands are tied. Made him a promise and can’t leave without at least givin’ it my best shot,” Bokuto says, narrowly avoiding part of the ceiling that crumbles down on his right.

“Kou, haul your ass outta there! That’s a direct order!” Kuroo’s voice filters through the earpiece, frantic but more worried than furious and Bokuto figures that buys him a few extra minutes before Kuroo reaches his patience limit.

“Coming, coming! I just gotta--” His grunt cuts him off as he braces to lift the bookcase again, trying his best to ignore the increasingly loud whimpers of the pup and the intense heat of the inferno swallowing the majority of the room. But before he can resume his train of thought, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and even Daichi all yell in unison as a deafening pop clicks:

“BO, THE GAS MAIN--”

“BOKUTO, YOU NEED TO--”

“KOU, GET OUT!”

And then the ground beneath him rumbles, the frame of the building violently shuddering before he’s thrown back and everything turns dark.

* * *

 

 

Steady beeps bleed into his subconscious, slow and unnerving.

His mind scrambles to piece together what he remembers, tries to place the unfamiliar bed, the strange sounds. Voices he’s never heard.

“His progress looks good,” one of them says, papers rustling.

“Should I decrease the morphine dose? Vitals are stable and the doctor says he could wake up any day now.”

Bokuto hears a snort followed by stifled laughter. “Oikawa, you’re an actual shit. Are you sure you’re not just trying to get him to wake up so you don’t have to feel guilty about flirting with that one firefighter who keeps coming to visit?”

“I resent that, Mattsun,” the one addressed as Oikawa says with petulant huff, “I was just being friendly, that’s all! I didn’t know it was a crime to be hospitable to patient visitors.”

“Keep trying to convince yourself that,” Mattsun retorts, not bothering to hide the chuckle. “Remind me again, who traded ER shifts so they can keep watch over the patient? You’re lucky you’re pretty, otherwise you’d be shit out of luck trying to get someone to cover trauma while you sit around here waiting for Big Burly Man to show up.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m much more than a pretty face.”

“And humble, too.”

“You’re the absolute worst! Don’t you have something better to do? Someone else to annoy?” Oikawa says, clearly affronted, but not without affection.

“As a matter of fact, Makki’s coming to get me in about fifteen. Be sure to take a bathroom break before lover boy shows up. Don’t want to pee yourself with excitement.”

“I hope you choke on a dick.”

“Hey, the night is young.”

“Gross! T.M.I.! T.M.I.!”

The door opens and something hits the far wall before Mattsun’s laughter disappears when it slides back in place.

Oikawa begins humming to himself while he checks a few things, a little off-key, but familiar and then Bokuto realizes where he’s heard it from. 

“’s that the X-File’s theme?” he mumbles groggily. His eyelids are heavy, lashes clumping together as he forces his eyes open enough to peek at his surroundings. 

“I knew there was something I liked about you!” Oikawa chirps, apparently pleased with Bokuto’s recognition. “My name is Oikawa Tooru and I’m the nurse on duty if you need anything. How are you feeling, Bokuto-chan?”

Bokuto groans, squinting when the bright lights of the room momentarily jar him. “Like I got hit by a truck. Where am I?”

“Hospital,” Oikawa says, a little too enthusiastically. “And close enough. You gave everyone a good scare! But I knew you’d pull through even though the building practically fell on you!”

“The building--” Bokuto searches for his last memory, winces when he attempts to scoot up in the process. Then it hits him all at once: the fire, the little boy, the bookcase and the pup trapped under it... the explosion. His breath hitches as he forces a swallow, afraid to ask. “Did... did the kid make it out before then? The dog?”

“The kid was fine. A few minor burns and cuts,” Oikawa says, his smile sunny but pinched. Something isn’t right. Bokuto braces himself. “But the dog--  I’m sorry, Bokuto-chan. Iwa-chan said you really wanted to save him.”

Bokuto stares at the stark white of the wall, expecting the news but shocked all the same. Everything around him muffles, becomes little more than white noise while Oikawa chatters on about people who have come to visit, and then a voice interrupts. Low and tentative, but enough to break him out of his stupor as he directs his attention to the sliding glass door.

“You’re awake?” Akaashi says, the bow of his mouth curving with a quiet smile. An obvious sign of relief. The book tucked underneath his arm drops with a thump on the floor, completely forgotten, and Bokuto sees the restraint Akaashi attempts to keep as his breathing noticeably quickens. While Akaashi remains somewhat guarded, impassive, Bokuto has traced the lines of his face enough to see the worry there. The lingering fear. “When--?”

“Just now, actually,” Oikawa says brightly, before he turns to leave. “I’ll give you guys a few minutes before I get the doctor.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Bokuto to stare as Akaashi’s hands fidget, twine together before he takes a step forward. Hesitant. Unsure. Searching Bokuto’s face for a sign of recognition, for permission to come closer.

Bokuto breaks into a grin, the grimace that comes with it a small price to pay when Akaashi surges toward him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck in seconds. He recovers his breath a beat later and exhales, burying his nose in the crook of Akaashi’s neck. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Akaashi holds on, tightens his grasp. “I got the call while I was out on patrol. They said that you-- I thought--” His voice cracks at the last syllable.

“Gonna take more than a burning building to keep me away,” Bokuto mumbles, eyes shut tight as he pushes down the swell in his chest, the ache that comes from being the one who’s made Akaashi fall apart this way. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Keiji. It was all my fault.”

Akaashi pulls away, his initial worry ebbing away as his lips thin, presses together in a disapproving line. “You did the right thing. Don’t ever be sorry for that.” His gaze flickers toward the bedside table, handmade cards depicting a fireman with black and white hair propped up next to vases overflowing with flowers. “The kid whose dog you tried to save -- he made those for you. To show you that he doesn’t blame you. He thinks you’re a real hero. Even looked after Aki a few times when we came to visit since dogs aren’t allowed in the hospital.”

“You brought Aki here? How is he? Crap, I’d left him at home and I didn’t know if he--”

“Aki’s fine. He’s been staying with me,” Akaashi says and the grin returns, making Bokuto’s heart forget how beating is supposed to work. “You might have a hard time getting him to leave after this.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bokuto laughs. “Can’t really blame him. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to leave either.”

Akaashi joins in, his laughter quiet, more subtle. But familiar and comforting. A sound Bokuto has sorely missed.

“Now there’s an idea.”

* * *

 

 

Recovery is slow going, but progressing better than anyone’s predicted. Bokuto’s release from the hospital had been a celebratory affair, his entire squad present and armed with words of encouragement, reassurances. Promises of beat downs should he ever revert to feeling like he was at fault.

He appreciates the vote of confidence, the allied strength, but one among them stands out from the rest. Unwavering and resolute in keeping him from entertaining his demons, from getting lost in his own head. 

Akaashi was a constant presence, remains consistently still even through the first few weeks while Bokuto attempts to re-establish his old routine. Staying at Akaashi’s place had been an easy, albeit unexpected decision, but soon enough, it’s begun to feel more like home than his own place had ever been.

“...and then the night comes as quietly as before, taking with it a promise of more beach-filled days, of surf and sun, of constant, unwavering, and loyal companionship as only his dog could give.” Akaashi finishes the passage with a quiet close of the book, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and Bokuto nestled against him.

“That was a good book. Even Aki liked it, didn’t you, bud?” Bokuto murmurs sleepily at the spotted dog lazing at the foot of the bed. He stretches his leg, toes nudging Aki from beneath the warm blankets. Aki barks softly and lifts his head a fraction to acknowledge the prod before resuming his position, head resting atop his paws. He tilts his head, pushing out a sigh as he skims his nose along the underside of Akaashi’s chin. “Man, I can’t believe I gotta go back to my place so soon. It’s so much easier gettin’ to work from here.”

“Yes, convenience is the only reason you’re still here,” Akaashi says hinting at amusement. He reaches out and sets the book on top of the end table, his glasses following suit. “Has nothing to do with the fantastic sex at all.”

Bokuto laughs and nuzzles against him, his arm loosely draping over Akaashi’s bare chest. “Well, shacking it up with the boyfriend does have its perks.” Then he sighs again, the silence stretching before he grumbles, “It sucks. I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay in bed with you and make pancakes in the morning with those blueberries from the market down the street and the coffee from that place around the corner and--”

“Then stay.”

“Huh? I would, but I already told Kuroo I was comin’ back to work tomorrow and he’s already been generous enough with the time off and I’m just--”

“No,” Akaashi says, sliding down so he’s facing Bokuto, the tips of their noses touching. “I meant  _stay_.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen a fraction when he realizes what Akaashi means. “ _Oh._ ”

Akaashi seems to sense his hesitation because a crease makes home between his brows. “If you want, but you don’t have t--”

“No! I want to! Really, I do. I was just, I dunno, worried, I guess?” Biting the edge of his lip, Bokuto averts his gaze as much as his position can manage, afraid Akaashi has misunderstood his reluctance. “I can be a handful.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be easy. My mood swings--” Bokuto argues, cheeks puffing out. 

“I know, Koutarou,” Akaashi says and shifts to cradle Bokuto’s face, thumbs pressed gently against appled cheeks. “I know and I don’t care. _Stay_.”

A grin begins, tugging the corners of Bokuto’s mouth, spreading wide as warmth spreads in his chest, makes him tingle with giddiness that reaches all the way to the curls of his toes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then Akaashi presses their lips together, the kiss languid. Soft and familiar and lingering until all doubt fades, white noise in Bokuto’s head. Inconsequential. Forgotten. 

He breaks the kiss and glances down at Aki, booming laughter filling the room. “You hear that, bud? Keiji says we can stay. What do you have to say to that?”

Aki barks his approval, tail wagging excitedly as Bokuto kisses Akaashi again. Warm, safe. Content. 

_Home._

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are always super appreciated ♥♥♥ and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D
> 
> on tumblr [**@limitlessmonster**](http://limitlessmonster.tumblr.com)


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